


Crushing Pressure

by unicornsandbutane



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Force Choking, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Oral Sex, Service Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7842055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsandbutane/pseuds/unicornsandbutane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitaka's got it bad. Ever since he first felt the invisible hand of the Force wrapped around his throat he knew, one way or another, he was doomed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He’d been eyeing sturdy-looking pipes, and buttoning his uniform a hair too tight.

He’d sworn to himself he’d be the first to volunteer to give Ren bad news, the next time the opportunity arose, but Ren remained convalescent in the infirmary, occasionally obliterating a medidroid, and Mitaka couldn’t think of any excuse to visit him, and certainly not for such impure reasons with the man so gravely wounded.

And he was ashamed.

And he knew, too, that Ren was a mind-reader. And he’d certainly know if Mitaka tried to conceal his desires from him.

So he’s had to stay away, a petty longing festering into an obsession.

But when the sedatives wore off, and Ren, furious at having been left so long like an invalid went tearing half-naked through the halls, looking for his lightsaber, looking for someone to blame, Mitaka went without thinking to stand in his path.

Ren held out his hand, and Mitaka was held still, and in that moment, Ren knew. He knew Mitaka wanted more than that. He knew the deep, thigh-sweating ache he’d left within the Lieutenant, knew with a certainty what it had coaxed the quiet, unassuming officer to do in the long, quiet hours of the sleep cycle. And the shock was what calmed him.

Mitaka knew where Ren’s saber was, and he knew Ren saw it in his mind. He betrayed himself with a thought–willing to get it for him, wonder if Ren feels naked without it, wonder if Ren would reward me– he staggered when Ren released the force hold on him. Ren, also, lost his footing, stumbling to lean heavily against a wall, bacta patch on his abdomen soaking through with blood where Ren had torn his stitches in his rage.

Mitaka swiped his hat off his head, held it too tightly in his hands. “Sir, your wounds–”

“I’m /fine/,” Ren interrupted, his voice cutting like an ion blade through Mitaka’s warning. “Get it for me.” Mitaka didn’t need to be told what, didn’t need threats or mind tricks. He turned, and went.  
He was a few levels up, taking emergency stairs in his haste, before he even began thinking too much about where he was going.

The saber was in Hux’s office, for safe-keeping. Would the General allow Ren his weapon of destruction, which had cleaved great burning holes in his ship? If he refused, Mitaka would be between a rock and a hard place.  
Mitaka couldn’t see Hux agreeing to hand the weapon over, least of all to Mitaka, who was, admittedly, nobody.

He opened his comm anyway and hesitated over the keypad. “Attn:General Hux/ Request urgent access to your office/ Lord Ren–” he paused again. Wants? Needs? Demands?

“Lord Ren’s weapon.”

He left it at that and sent the communique off, then resumed climbing the stairs again. His too-tight collar strangled as he took steps two at a time until he was on the same level as the command bridge– he likely hadn’t done that much physical activity since he was at the Academy, and his lungs burned for air, his thighs aching. His comm buzzed and he glanced at the screen. “Attn: Lt. Mitaka/ Am en route to Ren.” Then, a second message, moments later, “Attn: All Units/ DO NOT ENGAGE/ Droids are dispatched.”

Then, he saw them, security droids, sleek, black, rolling from their storage containment and into chutes for droid use only. More and more of them, clunking through the ship, and Mitaka could only imagine the carnage five levels down where Ren must have been tearing through them by sheer Force alone. He cast his eyes furtively down the hallway where he knew the General’s office to be.

‘This is fundamentally insane,’ he reminded himself. 'This is stupid and I’m going to get myself court martialed, or killed. Pushed out of an airlock or run through with Ren’s saber.’ Still he hurried down the corridor, swiped a rank cylinder over the pad, and entered the office unbidden. The saber was there, just, just sitting there on the desk. The General could have his head for this.

He snatched it up and scurried out again.

The droids were still deploying, like game balls in a Corellian gambling hall. There was the door to the stairwell. There, was a chute. He jumped in after a droid, and slid where they rolled. He hoped another one wouldn’t come down after him and crush him. The chute made a churning noise and then its joints shifted, forming a curve. The droid in front of him shot out of an opening, followed by Mitaka, who skidded on the floor, bruised, but otherwise unharmed.

He spotted Ren more or less where he left him, in the centre of a circle of twisted and sparking metal, and General Hux, stepping out of a lift at the other end of the hall.

“/Lieutenant!/” the General shouted, and Mitaka’s insides quailed, but then he was lifted off his feet, pulled by unseen hands over the wreckage, to hang in mid-air before Kylo Ren. “Unhand him, Ren!” the General commanded, but Ren didn’t turn. Mitaka found his feet, found himself let go. His knees wobbled. Ren plucked the saber from his numb fingers. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, before he reached out, spanned half of Mitaka’s neck with one huge hand, pressed his thumb into the hollow of Mitaka’s throat. If not for that hold, the Lieutenant was sure his legs would have gone out from under him.

“What do you think you’re–” the General caught up with them, finally having picked his way through the no-mans-land that had once been the infirmary corridor. Ren, slowly, released Mitaka’s throat and Mitaka swayed as if to follow Ren’s hand, but then he caught sight of the General’s livid face, and straightened. He tried to ignore that he was half-hard in his trousers, hoped the General didn’t notice. Ren stood by, and for the moment, he was quiet and still. The General glanced between them. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. Mitaka felt as though his heart was going to expire any moment. 

“This lieutenant has fetched me my weapon, as requested,” Ren replied, face impassive. He turned, sudden, as if sensing something in the depths of space. “I must go.”

But instead of pacing down the ruined hallway toward the lift, he simply stomped heavily back into the infirmary, his bare feet slapping the durasteel floor, and through the transparisteel both Hux and Mitaka watched him rifling around, ignoring the medidroids, to find new bacta patches for his side, his shoulder, his face. The General rounded on Mitaka then.

“General Hux? Sir?” Mitaka tried, resigning himself to his fate.

“Lieutenant. You must learn to protect your mind against users of the Force, or they will destroy you.”

Mitaka swallowed, and blinked. The General turned, and stalked off the way he came. Mitaka lifted one trembling hand to his throat, where he could still feel the heat of Ren’s hand, as if his touch had awakened something in his very cells. Ren seemed to be ignoring him, but standing there, in a field of mangled droids, Mitaka wondered if it might be worth it to be destroyed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitaka gets what he wants.

Lord Ren had returned to his quarters. Well, rather, this was an assumption made based on the fact that he wasn’t in the medbay, and he hadn’t caused anyone or anything grievous harm since the incident with the security droids. So, by process of elimination, he had to be in his rooms.

Mitaka didn’t know what the man was doing for food. Did he have a stash of nutrition bars holed up in there? Did he have a hospitality droid fetching his rations and caf? Perhaps he could subsist on the life energy of the Universe, and find nourishment through meditation alone. He had a horrible thought that Lord Ren was upset enough to be starving himself, and felt something harden in the pit of his stomach; a vicarious hunger, perhaps.

At the end of his shift he went to the officers’ mess. This was ordinary enough: plenty of his colleagues stopped by there for a late supper, or a drink after work. And surely it wouldn’t look that unusual if he carried his tray out of the canteen. His colleagues could assume he planned to eat in his quarters. And if he happened to take a route, roundabout though it was, which would take him past Lord Ren’s door, well, nobody would know, with the way patrols of stormtroopers tended to avoid that hallway entirely. Balancing the tray on one arm, he raised his fist to knock, and hesitated.

This wasn’t his job, and he hadn’t been invited.

What if Lord Ren was undertaking some sort of fasting ritual, and Mitaka disturbed his concentration? What if Lord Ren was angry that Mitaka dared infringe upon his personal space? Just as he was about to turn, the door hissed open and he was caught standing there, like an idiot, as Lord Ren stared him down in his full robes, cowl, and mask.

Mitaka immediately missed they way he’d looked, half-wild and half naked, with all of his oddly aristocratic features on display but bisected, like the heavy-handed symbol of a fallen dynasty. He blinked, and failed utterly to say anything in his defence.

Ren’s chin dipped as he appraised the contents of Mitaka’s tray.

Screwing his courage to the sticking point, Mitaka straightened as much as he could. “Lord Ren. I… wasn’t sure you’d eaten. So I brought–” he glanced down at the (rehydrated) groat chops with (freeze dried) diced fern potato and (tinned) rodian pepper jelly. It wasn’t an impressive offering.

He knew how he must look. He wasn’t Ren’s butler, and knew his colleagues would think he’d gone mad if they saw him now. Perhaps he had.

Without a word, Lord Ren stepped aside and gestured slightly. It took Mitaka a moment to recognise he was being beckoned, but he shuffled in and let the door close behind him.

The room was fairly bare, with long, blackened scars in the walls. There was nowhere for Mitaka to set the tray. Then, Ren motioned him through a second door, and Mitaka’s heart beat so fast his limbs tingled, but he kept a grip on the tray and marched through as best he could.

Ren’s bedroom was as sparsely furnished as his reception room, though at least the bed and side console were intact. Also, a pedestal, upon which sat a tray of ashes, and what Mitaka thought at first was the mangled and charred skull of some alien creature, but shocked him to the core when he realised it was the mask of Darth Vader.

Mitaka had heard the stories. Even in the Outer Rim he’d heard, and when he went to the Academy, boys from the Core Worlds claimed it was all true. But, he’d never been presented with evidence such as this. He’d never been face to face with something that, well, was tantamount to the reliquary of a saint, only perhaps more real.

He blinked at it, hands shaking and making the cutlery rattle. Ren plucked the tray from Mitaka’s numb fingers and set it on the side console by the bed. The groat chops would get cold soon.

“My grandfather,” Ren said, and they were the first words he’d spoken. The vocoder in the mask gave the words still more gravitas than was already implicit there. Lord Ren’s grandfather was Darth Vader? Who were his parents? What kind of progeny did Darth Vader, arguably the most famous Force-user in the galaxy, have? Were all the Knights of Ren his grandchildren?

“No,” Ren said sharply, answering his thoughts, “I alone carry his blood in my veins, and uphold the mantle of his legacy.”

Mitaka was impressed. He didn’t know what his face was doing when he looked up into the inscrutable eye-shield, but it made Ren huff a crackle of static. When Ren reached up to disengage his mask and shake out his hair, Mitaka pressed his lips together and tried desperately to memorise every detail of Lord Ren’s face. He didn’t know if he’d ever see it again.

The scar was less vivid than it had been, but those eyes were still just as black as he remembered. He was like… Mitaka’s mind groped for an accurate description, and the first thought that came to mind made him blush. A God made flesh, he thought, before realising Ren read his thoughts easily, and flushing deeper. Ren snorted a grim laugh.

“It is good to know your loyalties run so deep, Lieutenant,” Ren commented. “Come,” he offered. “Sit.”

Mitaka could only obey.

Walking stiffly over to the bed, his legs moving independently of his own action, Mitaka wondered if Ren was doing this because he thought Mitaka wouldn’t sit on the bed of his own accord, or just because he could. He fell heavily onto the mattress when his knees gave out under him, and Ren crossed the room in a few long strides to pick up the tray.

“Are you concerned for my health?” he asked, not looking at Mitaka.

“Sir?” He wasn’t sure how to answer. Was he? Was he really?

“You should be more concerned for your own well-being. I could kill you.” This was stated casually, as he pulled off a glove.

“I… I know, sir.”

“Especially if I gave in to your desires.” He picked up a cube of pan-seared fern potato with his bare fingers, oil clinging there. “I could crush your windpipe. Shatter your bones.” He pressed the potato to his tongue, then crushed it in his teeth with a single harsh bite, letting the crisp skin snap audibly in his mouth.

“Yes sir,” Mitaka replied, his voice tight. “I know, sir.”

“And yet, here you are, attempting to earn my favour,” Ren murmured. He picked up a groat chop by the bone, squeezed slightly, watched the meat fall to ribbons on the plate.

“I’m sorry,” Mitaka gushed, unsure why he was apologising. He watched Ren pinch a sliver of meat between his thumb and forefinger, its grey exterior hiding a soft, red centre, lush and velvety with blood. Ren took it in his teeth, tore it slowly and inelegantly with his incisors, swallowed it bit by bit.

“Maybe,” Ren answered. “But that hasn’t stopped you.”

“No,” Mitaka admitted, watching Ren lick juices from his fingers.

“I can see why a military life would appeal to you. You’re happiest when someone else is in control. And yet, for all that, you disobeyed a direct order from your General.”

Mitaka cringed. Thus far he’d allowed General Hux to believe he’d been acting under the influence of Force manipulation, rather than his own shameful desires. He wondered if Lord Ren would expose him.

“Hm,” Ren huffed, and it was almost a laugh. “No, I prefer him to think I can exert that much influence over his subordinates.”

With a grimace Mitaka realised he’d somewhat unwittingly upset the power balance aboard the Finaliser, and wondered what Lord Ren would do with that. With his hands clenched into fists at his side, Ren drifted closer, until he loomed over the Lieutenant, cast a long shadow over him.

“Undress, Lieutenant Mitaka.”

It was the first time in memory Lord Ren had used his name, and his fingers lifted shakily to his collar. He undid the top clasp, and the next, and the next, all while Ren held his gaze in a powerful thrall.

“Nobody has ever asked this of me,” Ren commented, when Mitaka’s hands reached his own belt, fumbled with the buckle, let it fall to the bed. “You are, hm, singular, Lieutenant.”

Mitaka didn’t think it was all that special. It certainly wasn’t anything to be proud of. He shrugged out of his outer tunic, and chewed his lip. It was in that moment of indecision that he realised Ren wasn’t influencing him. His thumbs hooked into his trousers. Ren’s lips turned up just slightly, just barely. Mitaka undid the fastenings, bent to unlace his boots.

He felt Ren’s gaze on his back, remembered the well-built solidity of Ren’s body that day in the medbay, knew how unimpressive he must look by comparison. A gloved hand, heavy and warm, landed on his back, scrunched his undershirt, pulled it up until an expanse of his lower body was revealed. Ren’s bare hand then reached for it, felt along his spine, the topography of his skin. With Ren curled over him like that, Mitaka couldn’t straighten, so he concentrated on his other boot while Ren ran his thumb up and down an old scar.

“How did you sustain this injury?” Ren asked, though Mitaka knew he could take the information without much trouble.

“An accident at the Academy. My bunk mate was… Not so good with mechanics,” Mitaka recalled ruefully. “We were running a drill where we disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled our blasters. He’d jammed his, firing pin right up next to the gain medium, so when he fired, the pump drove the pin right in and it exploded in his hands. He lost two fingers and I got caught by the shrapnel. Ended his military career. I healed up okay and uh, kind-of insisted upon going back. I was a few weeks behind though…” He trailed off, not sure why he was boring the Master of the Knights of Ren with his medical history. Ren’s fingers hadn’t left his skin, tracing around the scar. “I suppose I learned from the experience,” Mitaka ventured. “To always keep one eye on the person next to me, and how to make an explosive out of an unstable weapon. I mean,” he added hastily, remembering Ren’s saber, “some weapons.”

“How long has it been since you fired a blaster?” Ren stepped back to allow Mitaka to shift up, to pull off his boots, to haltingly push his trousers down his legs.

“Oh, er,” Mitaka stammered, distracted by all of that, and by the fact that he was sitting in his undershirt and shorts in Lord Ren’s bedroom. “Quite some time, sir. Not since I’ve been assigned to the Finalizer, at least.”

“Oughtn’t you make use of the training rooms? The firing range?”

Mitaka wondered if this was because he wasn’t as physically imposing as Ren himself was, and if the man would prefer him if he worked out more.

“We could be invaded, Lieutenant. The Resistance could infiltrate our ship, as it did Starkiller Base. The First Order needs to be able to count on you.”

“Yes sir, of course,” Mitaka replied, promising to test his marksmanship at the next opportunity.

“Good. Although I wonder. Whose loyalty do you truly keep, Lieutenant Mitaka?”

Mitaka felt Ren in his mind, surrendered to him, heard the words forming in his mouth unfiltered.

“I am loyal to the cause: restoring order to the Galaxy.”

“You crave order, don’t you. I see it in your mind. Your father, always working, trying to pull together enough chits to support your mother’s spice habit. You barely saw them, Mitaka. They loved you, but it was abstract. It wasn’t enough.”

“No,” Mitaka agreed, his mouth working easily, without hesitation.

“You want order you never had, attention you were never given. Too much attention can be a bad thing.”

“I like your attention,” Mitaka answers, without thinking. He isn’t embarrassed. Ren’s presence in his mind clears all of that away, all of his doubt and fear.

“Your likes are strange,” Ren accused mildly.

“Singular, you said,” Mitaka countered, smiling blithely.

“Yes,” Ren murmured, before pressure closed around Mitaka’s throat and pushed him back into the mattress. All at once Ren’s presence left Mitaka’s mind, and he briefly missed it, the comfort he felt when someone else controlled what he did and said, but then he had to concentrate on the invisible grip around his windpipe. It made him choke and wheeze, blood gathering in his face, his fingers flexing uselessly in the coverlet.

The pressure abated briefly and his face flopped to the side as he gasped for breath, then he pressed his nose into the pillows and inhaled the smell of ash and sweat. He was already a little hard in his shorts but knew there was no point in hiding it. Not when he felt the weight shifting on the bed and knew without looking Ren would soon kneel over him, so damnably, unbelievably close.

He kept his eyes closed when Ren’s hand, now bare of its glove, landed at the base of his neck and stroked along his collarbones. The hand moved up, but didn’t press, merely let its weight rest against the curve of his throat. When he opened his eyes it was just in time to see Ren lick his lips before leaning in, his weight by degrees constricting Mitaka’s airflow. Compulsively he swallowed, found he couldn’t, moaned low in his throat.

“Why do you like this?” Ren asked, voice hushed. The question came as a surprise, since Mitaka was fairly sure Ren could learn anything about him he should have a whim to know. Perhaps he just wanted to hear Mitaka say it. Ren’s grip loosened and Mitaka spared a moment to clear his throat, to try and forge an adequate response.

“I didn’t know that I did, until you did it to me the first time. I’d never felt so completely controlled as in that moment. I… I’ve sought out something like that, before.” He couldn’t look Ren in the eye, admitting to what he did on leave. “G-Getting tied up, blindfolded, that sort of thing. But when you– that is, with the F-Force…” He almost felt as though he didn’t have the right to refer to that power by name. He bit down on his lip and tried to calm his hammering heart. “It was like nothing else I’d ever known,” he finished simply.

“Mm,” Ren replied, face as unreadable in that moment as the mask. “You would submit to anything I chose for you.”

“Yes, sir,” Mitaka answered quickly, realising after he’d said it that it was wholly true. It was ridiculous, and Ren’s reception room with its deep gouges all along the walls and floor were a perfect illustration of why. But, he’d feared for his life at Ren’s hands before, and it hadn’t stopped him from touching himself shamefully in his bunk in the middle of the sleep cycle, fingers of one hand shoved roughly into his mouth to muffle his cries while the other stroked tight and fast, imagining. He’d imagine that split second between Ren’s outstretched fingers and his own feet leaving the ground, oxygen cut off without anyone touching him, how his legs kicked uselessly in the air even as he realised Ren could do anything, anything to him and Mitaka would be utterly powerless. Sometimes he’d hold his breath when he thought he was just about to come, but he hadn’t yet managed to master his body in that way, always had to gasp as his cock twitched and spurted in his fist.

“Pleasure me, then,” Ren commanded, and Mitaka sat up so fast, his head swam. He knew the shock must be evident on his face, but could anyone blame him? He couldn’t believe that Lord Ren would allow him, would demand that he–

He scrambled to the floor, inelegant, all elbows and knees, but so, so pleased to be afforded this position. He looked up at Ren from where he knelt, felt his heart swell with pride and adoration, before he reached for the man’s ornate belt buckle. Laying the belt carefully to the side, he again turned to the task at hand before realising he had no idea how Ren’s clothing worked. Where were the fasteners of the outer robe, exactly? And, what did he wear underneath? Was he expected to strip Ren completely, or only enough to accomplish this goal?

Ren solved this problem by pulling his robe and cowl off, himself, leaving him in a long-sleeved, high-collared shirt and some extremely tight leggings Mitaka was sorry he hadn’t seen properly until then. As it was, Mitaka licked his lips and pressed them together, then bit the inside of his lip when nothing else seemed to quell the urge to simply bury his face in the apex of Ren’s thighs, mouth him through the fabric, make an absolutely shameless display of himself. But then, Ren arched one thick instigating eyebrow and the sullen pout of his lips shifted, and Mitaka couldn’t resist anymore.

As soon as his nose pressed into the cloth he moaned, deep and shaking, muffled against Ren’s cock. His heart stuttered; he couldn’t believe he was a few millimetres of fabric away from this part of Lord Ren that was so vital and human. Ren was already half-hard and Mitaka kissed the bulge, rubbed his cheek against it, wondered what part of this encounter had aroused Kylo Ren and if he could do it again. His hands landed on Ren’s thighs, uncertain, before they slid up and up and he finally allowed himself to grope at Ren as he stiffened under the attention. His hand slipped between Ren’s thighs, cupped his balls while he began tongueing the front of his leggings, filling his mouth with the taste of leather and the scent of Ren’s musk. A shiver went through him when Ren reached down raked a hand through Mitaka’s hair, then took a fistful of it and shoved Mitaka’s face against his hard cock, ground against him, canted his hips forward to nearly smother him.

Aching to get his mouth on bare flesh, Mitaka hooked his fingers in the waistband of Ren’s trousers, found a hook and eye closure, unfastened it, and undid the zip. Even Ren’s underwear was black, and Mitaka wasn’t sure he expected anything else, but as he pulled Ren’s trousers down his thighs, Ren’s fingers curled around his ear, brushed insistently at his jaw until he looked up.

Lord Ren’s face was flushed. It was incredible. How had Mitaka managed–

“You truly wish to do this?” Ren asked, and his eyes searched Mitaka’s upturned face, brows furrowed, suspicious. It broke Mitaka’s heart.

“More than anything,” Mitaka whispered, before pressing a kiss to Ren’s tip through his thin black underwear. “Stars, Lord Ren. You’re really thick.” He could feel it, with his hand slipped into Ren’s open fly. He imagined himself with his hips in the air, face pressed into Ren’s pillows to breathe him in while Ren slowly pushed into him, inch by agonising inch, his size stretching Mitaka until it was all he could think about.

Ren didn’t say anything, though his breath hitched when Mitaka’s thumb rubbed at his frenulum through the cloth. Then, he pushed Mitaka away, and Mitaka whined, unable to stop himself. Ren turned, sat on the bed, stripped out of his clothing, and beckoned to Mitaka again.

Mitaka shuffled forward on his knees, drinking in the long lines of Ren’s legs, the scarred expanse of his torso, the curve of his cock jutting up insistently. Mitaka licked his lips again and laid his hands delicately on Ren’s thighs.

“Remove your undergarments, Lieutenant Mitaka. Then you may continue.”

It was less than graceful, the way Mitaka shimmied out of his undershirt and shorts, trying to remain on his knees, trying not to elbow Ren somewhere sensitive. But finally, when he was stripped bare, Ren leaned forward slightly to appraise him. Mitaka tried not to shrink away, but the corner of Ren’s mouth turned up and Mitaka’s heart skipped.

“You have been hard this whole time, but you’ve denied yourself even a single touch. Tell me why.”

Mitaka almost didn’t want to answer. Ren’s cock was right there, and glistening at the tip, and Mitaka wanted nothing more than do wrap his mouth around it, show Ren through action how he felt. But, he had to say something, so he glanced down at himself, at his cock, dark and needy, and shrugged.

“I was focused on other things, sir.”

“What things?”

Mitaka knew Ren was teasing him, and it lit up his nerves to think that Lord Ren might be enjoying this in more than just a purely physical way.

“Well, sir,” Mitaka answered, trying not to look giddy as he slid his eyes obviously up and down Ren’s body, concentrating again on his cock, fingers squeezing Ren’s thighs slightly. “One could say I’ve had my hands full.”

“Hm,” Ren answered, philosophically, before threading his fingers into Mitaka’s hair again. “I think I’m going to fuck your throat. I think you might enjoy choking on it. Is that not so?”

“Oh,” was all Mitaka could think to say, while his cock gave a twitch and leaked precome onto the floor. Again, Ren stood, his one hand still in Mitaka’s hair and the other gripping himself at the base. Mitaka’s mouth watered, and he swallowed thickly, not sure if he wanted to look at Ren’s face, or at the head of his cock just inches away.

In the end, it was neither. His eyes shut the moment Ren’s tip touched his lips, and a heartfelt groan hummed around it as Ren held him in place and began pushing into his willing mouth. He pressed his tongue up to the underside, tasting him, hands twitching before landing boldly on Ren’s hips. It was such an effort not to pull, not to coax Ren deeper with his grip, to just allow Ren to set the pace, to fill his mouth slowly and steadily until he gagged. Immediately, Ren pulled back, fist sure in Mitaka’s hair, and Mitaka missed the insistent pressure against his soft palate. He was sure Ren did it on purpose, allowed him just that second of constriction so Mitaka would ache for more.

He thrust back in faster the second time, and Mitaka hadn’t quite worked out how to open his throat, but the noise he made when Ren’s cock hit the back of his mouth made Ren tighten his grip in his hair, so Mitaka did his best at sucking as Ren withdrew again.

On the next push in, both of Ren’s hands cradled Mitaka’s skull, and they tilted him just so, and then that was it. Ren’s cock went down his throat and his nose pressed into coarse, black pubic hair, and his lower lip brushed Ren’s balls and he was elated. He swallowed convulsively, tears springing to his eyes, but it was all worth it for the single broken sound that fell from Ren’s lips. When Ren pulled out again it left Mitaka’s throat ragged, and he blinked through tears to gaze up at Ren’s ardent face.

“Show me,” Ren rasped, “how you would do it without my help.”

Mitaka missed Ren’s hands when they left his hair, but he concentrated on the man’s hip bones under his thumbs, his heat, his breath, the weight of his cock on his tongue. He bobbed down and up again, following a vein with his tongue, thinking about the raw power therein: the Force, Ren’s bloodline, the First Order, the Knights of Ren, Kylo Ren himself. He was truly magnificent, and Mitaka gave his best effort, tongueing the slit at the tip before sliding back down again.

“Ah,” Ren gasped, petting through Mitaka’s hair if only to have somewhere to put his hands, “Fuck!”

Mitaka moaned desperately in response, loved the way that made Ren buck into his mouth, stroked his thumbs up Ren’s hips, hollowed his cheeks.

“Lieutenant,” Ren called, voice rough, and Mitaka paused, flicking his tongue at the tip. “Do you want to finish me like this?”

Slowly, Mitaka pulled all the way off.

“You would–” he stopped, coughed, cleared his throat. “Would you prefer something else, sir?”

“That wasn’t the question.”

Mitaka looked just past Ren, embarrassed. His eyes landed on he bed and his shoulders drew up. “I… Sir, if you would indulge me, I, that is, if you would like–” He was blushing so hard his hair prickled, and his hands shook where they gripped Ren’s sides.

“Relax, Lieutenant,” Ren whispered, and then Mitaka felt it, Ren’s presence blanketing his mind again. That could grow addictive, he thought, before all conscious thought was wiped away and he was left with nothing but Ren. His focus narrowed, Ren’s fingers resting gently on his forehead, and his shoulders slumped, loose, as his eyes closed.

“Tell me what you want,” Ren instructed.

“I want you inside me,” Mitaka replied softly. “I want to feel you finish. I want to feel every inch of you, and I want to come, stretched around your cock. I want you to use me.” He could hear himself saying these words, knew they were honest and true, but was not ashamed. He didn’t worry about asking for something that hadn’t been offered to him. His eyes opened, and he leaned forward just a bit to kiss at Ren’s cock again, as if to thank him. Ren led him to the bed, and Mitaka clambered up, sighing when Ren left his mind.

“It’s comfortable in your head,” Ren commented, and Mitaka’s heart beat double-time. “Your mind is completely open to me, no resistance. It’s refreshing. No one has ever invited me in like that.”

“General Hux says I need to learn to guard my mind against you,” Mitaka answered. He didn’t think he was weak-minded. It was a conscious decision to let Ren in, to hide nothing.

“Mm. Another direct order you’ve disobeyed,” Ren needled as he rummaged in the side console and came up with a jar of lubricant. Mitaka had never thought about Lord Ren masturbating, but the presence of the jar brought images to his mind unbidden. Ren, laid out across his black and grey bedclothes, leggings shoved down just enough to get his hand around his cock, the other hand stroking up and down his impressive chest, eyes falling shut, panting hard, striping white across the sheets, wiping his hand and smearing the mess. Mitaka, arranging himself, tried to imagine what Ren would look like, post-orgasmic, sweating into his pill\ows, coming down.

“You’ll see,” Ren answered, “soon enough.” He lifted Mitaka off the bed with the Force, only to shove a pillow under his hips. Moments later, Mitaka felt Ren’s fingers, cool and slick, rubbing at his entrance until his middle finger slipped in. “You do this to yourself sometimes, don’t you, Lieutenant Mitaka?”

Mitaka nodded, gulping great lungfuls of air. Ren’s fingers were longer and thicker than his, and the angle was different, and it had been a long, long time since he’d had a long enough leave to indulge this pleasure with someone else, and his heels skidded on the bed as he sought more. Ren’s index finger joined the first, and Mitaka grunted at the stretch, but bore down on it anyway, impatient.

“Lord Ren,” he breathed, as Ren brushed his prostate. “Just one more finger and then, and then I think…” He held his legs open, felt his cock drooling precome on his belly, winced when Ren pulled out to add more lube. It was cold, but then Ren’s ring finger edged into him alongside the other two and he drew a shaky breath, tried to relax, pulled a pillow over his face to muffle his moans.

The pillow levitated away, and Mitaka grasped after it, desperate for the smell of Ren’s hair clinging to it.

“I don’t prefer a quiet lover,” Ren stated, and his face was solemn enough Mitaka began to worry what Ren would do to wrench sounds out of him. He found out quick enough, when Ren began stabbing his fingers down at a punishing rate, drilling Mitaka’s prostate. His other hand pushed Mitaka’s balls up so he could press his thumb into Mitaka’s perineum, stimulating his prostate from the inside and out, making Mitaka’s vision go black at the edges as a series of high, undignified shouts escaped him.

“Ah, oh fuck, Lord Ren!” he pleaded, clawing into his own thighs just for a little relief. “Please, please!”

“You think you are ready?” He drew his fingers out torturously slow, making Mitaka’s thighs quake.

“Yes!” Mitaka had avoided touching himself for so long, it stung. He rolled his hips, begged with mind and body. He would give anything to Ren, anything he asked for.

“Those are some fairly filthy thoughts, Lieutenant,” Ren said, but he leaned forward, pressing the length of his body on top of Mitaka so he could fit his teeth into the small dip between Mitaka’s clavicle and pectoral, and bite down. Mitaka sucked in a keening gasp, hoping Ren would leave a mark, something he could remember this encounter by, a bruise he could keep for his own, press fingers into any time he wanted. His cock twitched where it was trapped between their bodies and he felt another pearl of precome drip onto his belly, and again when Ren pulled off of his abused flesh and the sting faded into a dull throb. He couldn’t imagine why Lord Ren would do all of this, any of this for him, but he hoped he got the chance to show his gratitude.

“Knees up, Lieutenant,” Ren commanded, and Mitaka hoisted his thighs as far up and out as they would go. Then, Mitaka felt Ren’s knuckles bumping his inner thigh, and suddenly Ren was pushing in, breaching him, feeling so impossibly large, and Mitaka felt the groan being wrung out of him with each successive inch.

It seemed unending, relentless, and Mitaka’s eyes screwed shut, overwhelmed. When Ren was fully seated, Mitaka gasped for breath, and found it hard to breathe, so focused on the stretched fullness. For a delirious moment he thought Ren might somehow be fucking the space between his lungs, somewhere near his heart, and felt a strange clench in his chest. He cracked his eyes open when several long seconds ticked by with no movement from Ren.

“L-Lord Ren?” Mitaka stuttered, failing to stop his hips from grinding down. Ren’s eyes were closed as well, and his fingers twitched against Mitaka’s thighs. Slowly, Mitaka wrapped his legs around Ren’s hips, watching the minute shifts in his face. His lips and eyebrows seemed unable to settle, and Mitaka tensed, trying to hold still so as not to break the spell. But, as his muscles tightened, Ren sucked in a breath, and his hips jerked, and Mitaka yelped, and Ren opened his eyes.

“Hux would hate it if he knew I’d done this to you,” Ren commented, pulling back fractionally only to thrust back in again. He ground himself against Mitaka’s insides, and his eyes fluttered shut for another moment, while Mitaka choked down a series of embarrassing whining noises.

“You can tell him I volunteered,” Mitaka panted. Ren let out a short laugh, and pulled out a bit further before rocking back in again, driving the air from Mitaka’s lungs. “Oh, stars, Lord Ren,” Mitaka rasped, while Ren’s mouth fell open and his head tipped back. Mitaka stared, unreservedly, at the bob of Ren’s throat, the flicker of his tongue across his lips, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck, catching at his collar bone, the clench of his muscles as he built a rhythm. He was truly beautiful, and Mitaka couldn’t help but moan.

“Lieutenant.”

Mitaka dragged his eyes up from a somewhat cute birthmark in the vicinity of Ren’s navel and met Ren’s eyes. “Sir?”

“Mitaka.”

His heart thudded. “Yes, sir?”

Ren leaned closer, and it changed the angle and Mitaka barked a sharp sound and writhed in the sheets. They were damp with his sweat and he wondered if Ren would mind, would notice if the bed smelled of him. Then, Ren’s hands went under him, gripped him by the shoulder blades, hauled him up, and Mitaka thought he was going to use gravity to fuck him deeper, harder, and then his face was so close, their noses bumped, Mitaka panicked, and Ren kissed him.

Never in his life had he been caught so off-guard by a kiss. He couldn’t even close his eyes, although Ren had. One of Ren’s hands slid up his back, knotted into his hair, and Mitaka gave in. If this was what his Commander wanted, he was happy to serve.

“No!” Ren growled, pulling back sharply, and Mitaka thought his heart might stop. “That’s not— it’s not about that. Can’t I just kiss you without it being about your dedication to the Order?”

Mitaka groped for words, but with Ren so deep inside him, he could only blink stupidly.

“I thought… You were thinking that I was beautiful,” Ren said.

Dumbfounded, Mitaka tilted his head. Lacking any words, he reached for Ren’s face, cupped the long slope of his jaw, and kissed him. How could this happen? How could a mere lieutenant be afforded this honour? Ren’s mouth lit into a smile against his and Mitaka could only laugh. He laughed, and buried his face in Ren’s neck, and licked up the salt of his sweat, and then groaned when Ren lifted him by the hips and then thrust up as he pulled him down. On the next thrust, Mitaka threw his whole weight into it, and they both moaned together.

“Lord Ren,” he whined, before biting his lips at the pitch of his voice.

“Mm?”

“You’re really deep.” He didn’t know why he said that, except that it was true. Every time his ass hit Ren’s thighs, red and black sparks danced in Mitaka’s vision. He clutched at Ren’s shoulders with both hands, allowed himself to kiss up the side of Ren’s neck to his ear. “And you really are—” How should he describe Kylo Ren? Beautiful, powerful, terrifying, the arcs of raw energy in a supernova, the affect of a star tearing itself apart. “Incredible,” he whispered. Surely, Lord Ren must know that already. Mitaka knew it was useless to say. But he had to explain somehow, that he still couldn’t believe that, out of all living beings in the Galaxy, Lord Ren was here, with him. That itself was more unbelievable than the man, and Kylo Ren was in all aspects, unbelievable.

Ren turned his head slightly, pressed his forehead to Mitaka’s, and sighed, hips rolling faster. Incredible echoed Mitaka’s mind, Incredible, unbelievable, powerful, beautiful. He felt hot behind the eyes, even as he saw himself as if in a fogged mirror, his pinched, bloodless face when Ren first commanded him with the Force, then, his sweaty, pink face with eyes full of adulation, here, in this very room. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and gathered in the corners of his mouth and he licked them away whilst trying to grasp why he was crying.

He blinked his visions away, and the tears continued, and then he realised, Ren’s cheeks were wet, too. It wasn’t until Ren’s presence left his mind that he figured out those thoughts and images hadn’t even been his.

“I’m sorry,” Ren choked, still fucking up into Mitaka, even through his tears. “You feel too good. I can’t keep it all inside.”

And it was true, Mitaka felt open, more than just where he was stretched around Ren, but as if he’d gone semi-permeable, and he sobbed into Ren’s shoulder, trembling mind and body. He reached for the parts of himself that felt real, his anchor points; his fingers catching against moles on Ren’s back, Ren’s hips between his legs, the sheets against his feet, Ren’s tears splattering against his back. Ren thrust up again, and one of his hands left Mitaka’s hip, and wrapped around his cock and Mitaka gasped, “Ren!” and came all over Ren’s long fingers, and their stomachs, and down his balls, or maybe Ren’s? He felt it, felt Ren in his mind, felt what Ren felt, inside of him, the heat and the pressure. Mitaka’s dick twitched weakly, and he choked, breathless, and Ren wrapped both arms around him, pulled him close, nearly crushed him when he came.

Mitaka fought it, knowing Ren was stronger than he was, but Ren must have felt it, or seen it in his mind because he pulled back so Mitaka could watch his face as he finished. Tears still shone in Ren’s eyes, his brows furrowed, his lips first pulled back into a snarl then fell into a loose ‘o’, and he still bounced Mitaka on his cock all through it, a sharp “unh, unh, ugnh!” rising up out of him. The room shook. Mitaka felt the hot pulses of come inside him and shook along with it.

When Ren finally relaxed, Mitaka thought maybe he was going to collapse forward, pinning Mitaka under him, but it was just another attempt at a kiss. The way his face went all soft made him look so young.

Slowly, Mitaka lay back, and Ren followed him down, growing softer inside Mitaka but ignoring it just so he could keep moving his mouth against Mitaka’s. Mitaka sniffled, and boldly nipped at Ren’s lower lip, and got a shattered sound and an involuntary buck of Ren’s hips in response. The wince that followed was enough for Ren to finally, carefully, pull out, oversensitive and still, impossibly, not fully soft. Again, Mitaka found himself staring. Again, he found himself in disbelief.

“You look troubled,” Ren stated, arms bracketing Mitaka’s shoulders. He seemed to loom, caging Mitaka with his sheer size alone, but Mitaka, perhaps recklessly, was unconcerned.

“Mm? No, not troubled, exactly,” Mitaka replied, rolling his shoulders, feeling the abused skin of his throat stretch over sore tendons.

“What is it, then?” Ren urged dropping heavily onto his elbows.

“Can’t you take it from my mind?” Mitaka teased, but Ren’s expression clouded.

“Not this soon after climax. It is a weakness. I would not even be able to crush your throat from this distance, in this state.”

“From this distance sir?” Mitaka mused, a thrill going through him, “You could use your hands.”

If Ren wanted help training that ‘weakness’ out of himself, Mitaka would happily volunteer. But, in the meantime, he was content to shift up on his elbows, and, bravely, press his lips to Ren’s again.


End file.
